


Concupiscence

by Femme (femmequixotic)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, cowritten, foodsex, snaco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-03
Updated: 2008-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmequixotic/pseuds/Femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco asks Severus around to dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concupiscence

**Author's Note:**

> Written with Isolde for the pornish_pixies Ambrosia challenge. Many thanks to sinick for the beta. Based on canon for the RPG hp_dungeons.

Draco tossed his wand onto the pile of towels on the white tiled floor and stretched a little stiffly into the curve of the tub. He balanced two of the apples where the smooth lip met the damp wall and took a large bite of the third even before he slipped down into the hot water. Soothing water lapped at his shoulders, then his neck.

Delicious.

Sucking back tart sweet juice, running his tongue through the crisp soft texture, feeling the tight skin break again against his teeth, Draco leant back against the steam-covered walls, devouring orange pippin. Soft light from the bedroom shaded in through the door, slanting across the floor. In the darkness of his warm corner, Draco closed his eyes.

For a moment he just savoured it - both the fresh taste and the long slow ache, with a tiny sharp twist if he straightened his legs just so. This was undoubtedly the best apple he'd ever eaten. Draco took another avid bite, and a second, till his mouth was too crammed with apple to smile.

Merlin, he hadn't been this hungry in... well possibly ever. Not after Quidditch, whether they won or lost, not after days of not being game to stop and eat, not after anything. He filled himself full of apple, let apple smear and run across his mouth and chin, breathed in apple through the light steam.

Severus had better return soon.

-

Snape watched from the doorway, flickering shadows from the wall lamps sliding across his long, sallow body, slipping over his lank hair, his thin chest, his scarred hipbone. His fingers tightened on the goblet of water in his hand, his thumb sliding down the chilled crystal curve to stroke - once, twice- across the delicate stem.

Through the sweet damp of the steam he could smell the tang of the apple, the muted, woodsy spice of the Marseilles soap Draco preferred, and even the underlying musk of their bodies, smeared into sweat-streaked skin and tired limbs.

Snape's breath caught as the tip of Draco's tongue flicked over the juice trailing down the back of his pale hand, dipped between spread fingers, lapped at sticky knuckles and fingertips.  
His stomach twisted, rumbled.

The sound turned Draco's head. The boy smiled, his lips wet. "Severus," he murmured against the white flesh of the fruit, taking another crisp bite.

Snape strode into the bath, setting his goblet next to the discarded towels as he squatted beside the tub. He slid one hand through the warm water, lifting some to drizzle slowly across the boy's shoulders. His wet fingers slid across Draco's throat, feeling the muscles jump as Draco swallowed.

"Hungry, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked in amusement, noting the second apple within arm's reach. "One might think you hadn't eaten in days."

-

Draco tilted his head to stretch against the firm slide of Snape's fingers and smiled, not able to care right now whether that was the appropriate image when one was caught eating apples in a bathtub at one in the morning by a new lover.

His new lover.

Draco tipped his head back and smiled up at the dark shape of Severus Snape, rising to sit on the side of the bath. Shadowed by long hair in the dark room, his face looked pale and almost ghostly and quite different than all the hundreds or thousands of times Draco had looked into it.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Trying not to look at the long plane of hairless chest, the lean thighs, Severus Snape sitting on his bath, watching him eat, Draco grasped for the meaning of the question.

"Yes." He sucked and swallowed another mouthful of apple. "Yes, I'm hungry," he added, when Snape's amused face broke into a smile.

Swallowing, Draco lifted the half-eaten apple in Snape's general direction. "Do you want some?"

-

Snape caught Draco's thin wrist, his thumb circling against the protruding bump of bone on the right. He noted the ridges and channels marked in the fruit by Draco's white teeth. The same sharp teeth that had nipped his shoulder just hours before.

His hand tightened around Draco's wrist, hiding the sudden tremble of his fingers. He bent forward, bit into the desecrated flesh of the apple, mouth filling with floury sweetness. He ate appreciatively, sucking the tart juice from his bottom lip, and watching Draco watch him.

Sliding his palm down Draco's arm, Snape's fingertips brushed across the faint traces of the Dark Mark pressed into the boy's forearm. Sticky juice and warm water ran across the white ridges of the scar, leaving the pale serpent's head glistening in the lamplight.

He dropped his hand at Draco's quiet hiss, well aware of his former student's loathing for that particular relic of the war.

Not that he disagreed.

He pulled the apple from Draco's grasp and bit into it again, a neat, precise crunch into the firm fruit.

-

Draco sat back and watched. It wasn't like sitting across from him at the table, with cutlery and convention. It was a naked man in his bathroom; it was Professor Snape, naked on the edge of his bath. Although he vaguely thought it was impossible, his cock was interested again, and Draco shifted in the water, drawing up his legs a little.

Professor Snape, his mind insisted, eating an apple naked in my bathroom.

Everything smelled of apples and, almost by reflex, Draco turned and reached back for another. Even the smooth skin beneath his fingers felt delicious and he leaned in to take a bite as quickly as possible. It was as juicy, as sweet...

The sound of Snape's quiet laugh took him entirely by surprise, even in this surprising situation. His head jerked up and the apple fell back in his loose fingers and he had to catch it before it hit the dark light surface of the water. Snape laughed at him again, and when Draco looked up in astonishment, because he'd never heard him laugh before, Snape caught his mouth in an open kiss, pressing him back into the curve of the bath with lips and tongue and a hand caught around his shoulder.

Draco smiled into the kiss.

-

Draco had opened the brandy beforehand, of course, in the middle of all the other nervous preparations. He worried that the salmon was too unevenly filleted, that Antsy didn't understand the difference between new potatoes and small potatoes, that Snape wouldn't come for some important reason or for any reason at all. But in the middle of all that sat the bottle of Castarede armagnac, next to its beautiful case, like a promise. Snape would come.

He arrived on time, well but not expensively dressed, with no particular display of intimacy. Draco swallowed nervousness, or perhaps even fear. After the last time, he couldn't not have expectations.

However, over dinner, Draco was only carefully charming. Years of avoiding his father's irritation, his mother's refined disapproval, and the vindictive satisfaction of any amount of peers, rivals and relatives, had to help in something. He made intelligent small talk. He was not overly attentive. He accepted slight compliments about the food and the wine and the dZcor with appropriate adjustment for the fact that this was Professor Snape, and he could hardly expect his careful preparation to be openly admired. In fact, he faltered only once, over dessert, when his eyes flicked up to catch Snape watching his mouth.  
Draco couldn't help the wave of surprised pleasure, and his spoon chimed nervously against the gilt rim of the bowl.  
Snape looked at him, as if waiting.

Draco let his tongue drag raspberry puree from his lower lip.

-

Dinner was a pleasant enough affair, as Snape had expected. Draco was, above all, a Malfoy, and the millennia-old House Malfoy prided itself upon its pleasure in good wine, good food and good conversation, among other things.

Snape was reminded of late-evening suppers with Lucius and Narcissa flanking each end of the long gleaming ebony table in the Manor's dining room, the quiet clink of sterling against bone china, the muted murmurs of banter and laughter between Ministry toadies and the Dark Lord's sycophants.

He had looked up at one such dinner five years past to see the young Malfoy heir watching him - none too discreetly - from over the rim of a wineglass, grey eyes sliding to one side. A faint pink flush had warmed the boy's pallid cheeks upon the realisation that his Head of House had caught him in an indiscretion. Draco had lowered the goblet, his lips still damp from the wine. A quick, nervous swipe of his tongue at the corner of his mouth. Eyes, usually so cool, filled with sudden warmth, and quickly hooded with the excruciating embarrassment only a seventeen-year-old can muster.

Snape had looked away, allowing Draco the kindness of believing his want had gone unnoticed, despite the sharp inexplicable rush of heat that knotted his own stomach in response. Snape had, of course, been aware of his place, of his responsibility to the boy, and to himself. It would have been reprehensible to dwell upon what he might want from his student.

Now, Snape's fingers curled around the stem of his wineglass, tensing against the fragile crystal until the red wine sloshed up one side.

Those same grey eyes watched him again, boldly now, though tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

And then the tongue - that perfect, wet, pink tongue - swept over the boy's soft mouth. Snape inhaled sharply.

He was aware of pushing back the chair, and then with two fingers Snape lifted that pointed chin and his mouth was against Draco's, tasting the sweet tang of raspberries and wine. And he wanted - dear God he wanted - to touch him again, to feel that slight body arch beneath him once more...

Snape slid one palm down Draco's chest then back up, fumbling with the tiny buttons at the neck of Draco's robe. He pushed two fingers - then three - past the soft navy silk, finding the warm jut of Draco's collarbone.

"Yes," he breathed against Draco's mouth. "Beautiful."

-

Draco had been expecting it. He'd thought about it a thousand times since Halloween, never quite thinking it was a one-time thing because why should it be, if Snape wanted him, and he clearly did, and he wanted to be wanted. A thousand times, and yet when Snape stood, and he knew it was about to happen, Draco couldn't breathe.

His mouth, and it was hard to know how to move. His voice, and Draco couldn't breathe, but he lifted a hand and wound it around Snape's neck. His teeth, breath, hand on Draco's hip.  
"Severus," Draco said and then Snape was guiding him to the floor.

-

Snape splayed his callused fingers across the pale smoothness of Draco's chest as it was revealed, trailing his open mouth along the curve of Draco's arched neck.

Draco moved beneath him as Snape worked at buttons and ties, his legs shifting under Snape's, his fingers pushing black wool from Snape's shoulders and down his narrow arms. "Severus," he whispered again, breath hot against Snape's jaw.

Snape sat back and stared down at the boy sprawled wantonly beneath him, breathless and needy, lips wet and swollen, eyes dark, the head of his cock just barely visible through folds of wrinkled dark silk twisted around his hips.

He drew a ragged breath as Draco caught at his arms, lifting up to kiss him again. Snape's mouth moved greedily across his, savouring each careful lick, each bite, each hungry suck.

And then he pulled away, smiling faintly at Draco's quiet keen of dismay. Two steps to the table, allowing his open robe to slide to the floor, and he took up both glasses of armagnac as he turned back to Draco.  
-  
Draco's fingers clenched into the short soft carpet.

Snape was almost naked, and it was too much to think about so Draco didn't. Snape's eyes held his, and Draco only blinked at the new brush of naked thigh against naked thigh, only opened his mouth on the slightest sound when Snape leant forward, over him.

Hawk-like, dark eyes watching. Like a thousand other times and yet so different. Snape took a drink, and then he was there, a waft of sweet warmth and then the kiss, pressing Draco back into the floor. Snape's tongue pressed into his mouth and their kiss was slippery and burning with the brandy's rich fire and Snape's mouth brushed across Draco's cheek and jaw as his hand curled around Draco's cock.

Draco's hips leapt in the puddled disarray of the robe he'd taken such trouble choosing and then Snape was licking a soft fall of armagnac suddenly trickling across his collarbone.

-

Amber droplets against white skin.

Snape smeared the splash of armagnac down Draco's chest, the tip of his tongue tracing his fingers' path, lapping across one nipple, through the shallow dip of Draco's sternum. The brandy was warm; sweet and fragrant on Draco's flushed skin.  
He smiled against Draco's trembling belly, listened to the quiet sighs as Draco twisted beneath him, whispering murmurs and pleas and--

He pushed his fingers soaked in brandy into Draco's mouth, raising his head to watch as Draco licked and sucked the century-old liquor from his fingertips. And then Snape was kissing him again, pressing his body against Draco's, their cocks sliding across one another, burning and heavy and aching, and Snape fumbled in his discarded robe, his mouth still hot against Draco's and the phial was open and with a deep groan Snape pushed two slick fingers inside of Draco at once.

-

It stung, and in a hot blur Draco's body trembled between coming and jerking away. Those fingers, Snape's hands, in his mouth and his arse, and Draco was shaking again as his body tried to devour the sensation and tried to float away. There was another wet twist of discomfort as Snape guided his legs up and apart, and Draco gasped for air as if he'd been holding his breath.

There was at least another finger now, already, a precise sharp heavy press and he groaned even though he never wanted to make that kind of noise. Snape pressed even further in, lifted Draco's hips higher, bit a slick path up Draco's neck.  
He knew Snape wasn't taking the same time as before, wasn't being as careful, and somehow that was a new thrill. There was that sharp flash of pleasure as Snape pressed him open and pushed him down and Draco made another noise he was embarrassed to hear himself make as Snape removed his hand entirely.

Draco was waiting for it this time, through the tangle of moving limbs, and he felt the soft weight of Snape's cock and his hand flew to Snape's shoulder.

There was a hesitation and Draco's eyes flew open just as Snape's mouth met his, flooding armagnac across his tongue. Then they were kissing golden slippery kisses, and the brandy stung his lips where Snape's teeth had grazed, and Draco couldn't do anything except hold onto Snape's shoulders and drink in the warmth as Snape pushed inside him, burning and too much and Draco cried out against Snape's mouth.

-

Snape pulled back across the rim of the bath, tart sweetness of apple still lingering on his tongue. He raised an eyebrow as Draco plucked the fruit from his hand and bit into it once again, glancing at the unfinished apple still in the boy's other hand.  
Draco was entirely unrepentant. "I'm hungry," he said, through a mouthful of fruit.

Snape stood, still smiling, and slid into the tub, unconcerned as the warm water sloshed over the edge, streaming onto the tiles. "As am I," he said, sliding one hand up Draco's leg, pushing his knee to one side. He watched his own fingers, under the water, stroking tiny circles along the softness of Draco's thigh.  
Draco hesitated for the briefest of moments. "A trade then." He dug a small fleshy scrap from the apple and offered it to Snape, holding his gaze.

Snape ate the morsel of fruit, his tongue running down along sticky fingers. Draco shifted, splashing more water over the rim, and Snape leaned closer, one hand on each side of the tub. His breath gusted sweet and hot against Draco's damp throat. "Your payment," Snape whispered. Their mouths caught, wet and open, their tongues sliding warm against one another.

Dragging his mouth away, Draco grinned in the dim light from the door, and brought the fruit to his mouth again. He bit out a small crescent of white apple and offered it up, although Snape had to lean right over him to take it between his lips.

They were so close, now. Draco smiled at him, his breath apple-sweet; and they were kissing again, a languorous wet kiss.  
Snape's hands caught around Draco's waist, pulling him half out of the water and pressing his wet shoulders against the cool tile of the wall. His thumbs skimmed across Draco's hipbones, dipping low enough to brush through the wet curls at the base of his cock.

Snape groaned, his lips moving over Draco's cheek and temple, warm gasps against his damp hair. Draco's mouth found his again, eager and soft, and Snape let him lead the kiss. His fingers slid around the boy's already urgent cock with a slow, lingering stroke through the water. Draco's arm wrapped around Snape's neck as they devoured one another that way, but it wasn't entirely enough.

A twist of their bodies, a splash of water across the floor and the already sodden towels, and Draco was bent over the bath, Snape behind him, his mouth pressing tiny kisses along the knobby curve of Draco's spine.

"Yes," Draco whispered, pressing back against him, brushing against his cock, as if...

"It's too soon," Snape managed to say, although he was already hard enough and already adjusting the boy's hips so that the head of his cock could run just so...

Draco looped an arm back around Snape's neck, lithely twisting back to kiss him, to breathe, "I'm hungry."

Stretching out for the bath oil on the cabinet, Snape dragged Draco higher, till the water lapped around his hips, glistening over the curve of his arse, and it was only a blur of seconds before the boy was thrusting back onto his fingers, the slope of his back glancing wetly in the light as he moved. Draco's arm flew out to steady him against the wall in an arc of bright water and he leant back, pressing harder down onto the intruding hand with a gasp.

The scent of almond oil rose between them as Snape finally drew him back into the warm water, back onto his aching cock, back against his chest.

Snape's arm curled around the boy's chest, his fingers tight against the slick smoothness of wet skin. His teeth grazed Draco's throat, scraping slightly up to his ear. "Beautiful," he murmured, his face pressed into the arc of Draco's neck, and Draco flexed and relaxed at the word, as he always did, like a curl of pleasure that slid his hips back slowly, easing Snape further inside him.

Draco leant his head against Snape's shoulder, turning to brush soft lips against the jut of Snape's clavicle. His hands slid blindly down Snape's sides, over his narrow hips, twisting to pull Snape closer, deeper.

"Please..." Draco, said, but his breath caught on whatever he was asking for. "I want..." He broke off again in a soft cry as Snape thrust into him.

Snape breathed out, angled himself to move again, fingers grasping at the damp rim of the bath. His hand crushed a discarded half-eaten apple into the porcelain, pulp and seeds and juice bursting under his hand. Without thinking, he smeared the mess against Draco's throat, leaning in to suck the tart juice from his pale skin, shoving sticky-sweet fingers into Draco's mouth.

The boy sucked at them eagerly, twisted his neck to kiss Snape roughly, hungrily, and the added desperation drove Snape to move. He pushed Draco forward for a clearer angle and rocked into him firmly, wet fingers digging into the smooth line of Draco's waist as he bent him over the side of the bath. A wash of water fell across the edge with him, and the light glistened off the shining pattern of Draco's spine as he threw his head up and arched back.

Snape fucked him then: pressed as they were into this narrow angle, Snape fucked him over the porcelain line of the bath, mouth open and hot against the wet curve of Draco's shoulder, breathing in apples.


End file.
